A Severus Carol
by Leville
Summary: One night after being especially cruel to his students, Snape is warned by the Bloody Baron that he will be visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come. Can they make Snape change his ways before he's punished for all eternity?
1. Chapter 1: The Bloody Barron's Warning

**A/N: This is obviously AU, just by the premise, but this takes place in world where Voldemort died for good after he tried to kill Harry and everyone knew about Snape's true loyalty and his friendship with Lily. PS. clearly, I don't own Harry Potter or A Christmas Carol**

**The Bloody Barron's Warning**

Neville Longbottom hunched over his desk, furiously writing Potions notes. The dungeon was cold, so cold that his breath rose up in an icy mist. The fingers holding his quill were numb. But he had to stay for rudimentary Potions; otherwise he would fail the class. His grandmother made it very clear that he wasn't allowed to fail.

Snape leaned over Neville's shoulder, reading his work. "Write neater," Snape instructed coldly.

Neville straightened his quill and began to write slower, working carefully to insure that each letter was perfect.

"No, no, you stupid boy! Asphodel has no 'f' in it. It is a 'p-h!'"

Neville quickly got out his wand and tried to clear the misspelled word away. All he succeeded in doing was lighting his parchment on fire.

Cursing, Snape raised his wand to put the fire out. "Are you trying to fail? Or do you and your friends have a bet to see which of you can drive me into cardiac arrest first? BECAUSE LET ME TELL YOU, LONGBOTTOM-YOU'RE WINNING!"

"No, sir!" Neville insisted, wringing his hands. "I'm trying so hard, I swear. I-I n-need to pass your class, Pro-Professor. My gran—"

"I don't believe you. I don't think anyone could unintentionally be this dim-witted."

Before Neville could respond, the door to the potions classroom swung open, revealing a grinning Harry Potter.

"Hullo, Professor!"

"What is it, Potter?" Snape spat.

Harry gave a friendly wave in Neville's direction before turning his attention to Snape. "I was wondering if you wanted to come to Christmas dinner tomorrow evening. Sirius invited everyone. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Remus, the Weasleys—"

"For the last six years, Potter, you have invited me to your house for Christmas dinner, what on earth makes you think I'll accept this year?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you'd finally like to get out of this drafty castle for a bit? Have a nice Christmas dinner with lots of merriment and cheer?"

Snape scoffed. "Bah!"

Harry shrugged. "Okay. Suit yourself. You're welcome if you change your mind, you know." He turned to Neville. "So, what's in store for your Christmas? Seeing your parents at Saint Mungo's?"

Neville nodded. "Yes. Then in the evening Great Uncle Algie and Great Auntie Enid are coming over for tea."

"How's your mum doing? Is she any better?" Harry asked kindly.

Neville shook his head. "No, but she hasn't gotten worse, so I guess that's a good sign."

"You know, Sirius and I were thinking of having a party on New Year's Eve; we'd love to see you there." Harry turned to Snape. "You can come, too, Prof—"

Snape lost his patients. "Enough! Potter, you are wasting Mister Longbottom's time. If you keep distracting him from his work, he doesn't have a prayer of passing his Potions class."

Neville jumped and nearly overturned his ink bottle in his hurry to continue writing.

Harry threw up his hands in defeat and backed out of Snape's classroom.

Neville went on to study for another twenty minutes then frantically began trying to create one of the potions from Snape's list. He worked as quickly as he could until Snape finally called for him to bring his work forward. With a shaking hand, Neville handed him his notes and a sample of the potion he had been brewing.

Snape glanced at the notes, disgusted, and examined the contents of Neville's cauldron.

"Pitiful. Thinner than water and more pink than magenta."

"Professor, I tried but—"

"GET OUT!" bellowed Snape. "I'll see you on the twenty-sixth and we will discuss whether your current grade is a 'Dreadful' or a 'Poor.'"

Neville grabbed his backpack and ran out of the room, knocking over a few empty glass jars as he went.

Sighing, Snape waved his wand and the glasses repaired and set themselves back down on the shelf. He extinguished the fire from underneath the cauldron and cast a few scouring charms to clean it.

Once everything was back in order, he turned toward the door.

He was surprised to see that his path was blocked by a tall, blood stained ghost, wrapped in heavy chains.

"Good evening, Baron," Snape told him politely. "What brings you down here?"

"I have come to warn you, Severus," the Baron whispered ominously. "I have heard rumors concerning you. It is said that three spirits will be visiting you, tomorrow, in the earliest hours of Christmas morning. You can expect the first one at midnight precisely."

"Well, if he calls upon me at that indecent hour, I sure hope he does not expect a friendly reception," Snape sneered.

"This is no laughing matter, Severus," the Baron scolded. "These are no ordinary spirits. They are not the simple ghosts of those who chose to cling to this earth once their soul departs from their bodies. They are—"

"I have had enough," snarled Snape. He walked straight through the Bloody Baron and stalked down the dark corridor to his bed room.

He slammed the door shut and got ready for bed, trying to ignore the loud clanging from the bell tower that announced it was eleven at night.


	2. Chapter 2: The Ghost of Christmas Past

**The Ghost of Christmas Past**

Snape had barely fallen asleep when he was jerked awake by a bell's loud toll. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve.

Midnight.

The Bloody Baron's warning ringing in his ears, Snape felt a tad uneasy.

Snape sat up in bed despite himself. He glanced around the room. It was completely empty, apart from himself. There was not another soul in the room, living or otherwise.

Sighing and scolding himself for being so foolish, Snape lay back down in his bed and turned over. And came face to face with someone kneeling at his bedside.

Snape gave a strangled cry and leapt up. He got tangled in his blankets and bed hangings and fell to the floor with a loud _thump,_ landing in a heap. Struggling, Snape tried to sit up as the thing came around from the other side of the bed.

"My, what a mess you have made. You look like you got caught in a Crumple-Horned Snorkack nest."

Snape threw off his sheets and looked up at the intruder. It was a girl with wide grey eyes and dirty blonde hair that twisted past her waist. She was barefoot and dressed entirely in sparkling white. She had a crown of bright silver flowers sitting on the top of her head. As an added touch, they glowed like fairy lights. She was peering down at him, her eyes full of pity.

This description could only match Luna Lovegood, a spacey sixteen-year-old girl in one of his Potions classes. She, like Longbottom, seemed to work extra hard to get him irritated. Hadn't she gone home to her whackjob of a father?

"Miss Lovegood," he said, his voice not as indignant as he would have liked. He was too shocked to muster the proper anger. "This is highly inappropriate." Once he got going, he found his fury. "What are you _doing?_" he seethed.

The girl stared at him and the look of pity she had in her eyes intensified. "Lovegood?" she repeated. "No, that is not my name. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Snape snorted and briefly wondered if all the staff and students decided to play a trick on him.

The Ghost of Christmas Past held her hand out to Snape. Rolling his eyes, Snape took her hand and she pulled him to his feet. "Now come along," she said cheerfully, guiding Snape out of his room. "We have a lot to see and not much time."

Deciding this had to be a terrible dream caused by something only partially cooked in his dinner, Snape followed her.

She led him through the dungeon to the Entrance Hall, up several flights of stairs until they arrived in the library.

Snape's jaw dropped. He saw a small boy dressed in ill-fitting robes sitting at one of the tables in the corner. The boy had dark, stringy hair and he was intently fixed on his book, scribbling in the margins and crossing things out.

Snape rubbed his eyes with his fists, willing the vision in front of him to prove itself a hallucination.

And quite suddenly, the boy wasn't alone anymore. Four boys, two of them much taller and bigger, abruptly surrounded young Severus's table.

"Look who's staying at Hogwarts for Christmas," mocked James Potter. "He doesn't have any family to go home to."

"Well, I'd rather not go home for Christmas, either," Sirius said in falsely sympathetic tones.

"Luckily you have _friends_ who are willing to have you spend break with them," said James.

"Oh yeah," Sirius laughed. "Lucky me."

Eleven-year-old Severus buried his head in his book, scribbling with more intensity.

"Oh, quit being such a prat, James."

Both young and adult Snape turned to see an older girl, Alice Prewett, leaning against a nearby bookshelf. "Don't mind my cousin," she said to Severus kindly. "He's got idiot-itis, a hopelessly terminal case."

Severus snickered as Alice shooed James and his friends away.

"Don't let Madam Pince see you 'defiling' that book," she added.

Snape smiled faintly. He had been kicked out of the library more than once for his habit of writing in his books.

"Or how about this one," said the Ghost of Christmas Past, turning Severus' attention to another corner of the library where a twelve-year-old Snape sat going over his notes.

The sound of a chair scrapping against the floor made him look up.

Lily Evans had sat down across from him, all smiles, and bright green eyes alight with holiday spirit. "Severus? I was wondering if maybe you would like to spend Christmas with my family this year?"

Severus, so young and only twelve years old, incredibly touched beyond words, was only able to nod.

Lily smiled and placed her hand on top of his. "Oh, Sev, you're going to love it. Dad puts up amazing decorations and Mum makes the best food. It's going to be wonderful."

Snape smiled at the scene, but his eyes were sad. He turned away before the frightful little Ghost could see the moisture in his eyes.

"What about this one?" asked the Ghost of Christmas Past. She spun Snape around once more.

This time, they were no longer in the library, but in the Evans' family sitting room. Lily's father held up a glass, high in the air and proclaimed, "Congratulations on your engagement, Petunia and Vernon! May you have a life time of happiness! And for the rest of us: Happy Christmas!"

"Here, here!" echoed around the room.

Fifteen year old Severus, sitting in a far away corner turned to roll his eyes at Lily, who giggled and shushed him. Lily's mother started an old Muggle record player and a festive holiday tune blasted throughout the house. Everyone started dancing exuberantly. Lily turned to Severus and held her hand out, an invitation. Severus reached out for her and together they started spinning and twirling. Both started laughing, and singing along. To his shock, Snape found himself laughing as well, recalling how wonderful that party had been, despite Petunia's unrelenting dirty looks.

"Time to go," The Ghost whispered kindly. "We have one more memory."

Snape watched the scene, his eyes filled with wonder. Unable to tare his gaze away, he begged, "Please, just a few more minutes."

The Ghost sighed, but allowed Snape to watch his younger self and Lily dance until they sprawled down on the nearest chairs. The pair were pink in the face and out of breath, giggling between gasps.

The Ghost put a hand on Severus' shoulder and guided him towards the front door of the Evans' house and led him outside.

It was snowing, great tufts of white swirling through the air. Shivering, not dressed for the weather at all, seventeen year old Severus stood on the Evans' front porch, practically kneeling before Lily.

"Lily, please. It's been nearly a year in and a half, I have apologized, I have—"

"Done too little, too late!" Lily cut across him furiously. Tears shone in her eyes. "You were my best friend for years, Severus, or at least I thought you were."

"I was. I _am_! _I still am_."

"No! Friends are honest with each other, Severus, and you lied to me from day one! I asked you the first time we met if blood status mattered, and you said it didn't! But it does, at least to _you_. Now I've found someone who tells me it doesn't matter and actually _means_ it! And you can't stand it! You're like a little kid who gives away a favorite toy and once someone else has it, you demand to have it back!"

"I can't believe you're with him!" Severus snarled. "That total and complete waste of human life! Do you remember what he put me through? What he put _you_ through? Showing off and making an arse of himself in front of you- it used to disgust you! The way he publicly asked you out used to embarrass you!"

"He's not the same person he was when we were kids. He's good and kind and thoughtful. And you know what else? He isn't prejudiced! Now I'm asking you nicely, Severus. Please, just leave."

Lily choked back a sob and opened the front door. James was standing there, eyes full of concern. Lily threw her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest. James drew Lily close and glared at Snape over the top of her head.

For once he did not look smug; he did not jeer or laugh. He simply looked furious. He guided Lily back into the house and slammed the door.

Severus fell to a heap on the steps and sobbed into his hands.

"NO!" Snape shouted. "Go apologize!" he shrieked at Severus. "TELL HER YOU'RE SORRY!" Snape's eyes filled with tears as well. "Tell her how you feel! Tell her that you love her!"

When Severus made no move, Snape turned to the door to open it, but the Ghost held him back. "No!" she said fiercely. "These are merely shadows of what has been. You cannot change this!"

Snape turned the door knob anyways and called for Lily 'til his voice was hoarse. The door would not, could not, open. And Lily did come back.

"Show me no more, Spirit," Snape murmured in a broken voice. "Please."

He wiped the tears from his eyes. When he drew his hands away, he saw that he was back in his chambers. The Ghost of Christmas Past was nowhere to be seen.


	3. Chapter 3 The Ghost of Christmas Present

**The Ghost of Christmas Present**

Trembling, Snape slid onto the edge of his bed. He rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow. He did not have a moment's peace before the bell rung two loud notes. The second ring had barely ended when something banged loudly at his door.

_I'm imaging it_, Snape told himself and pulled his pillow over his head.

The thing outside banged on the door again, louder this time. Snape jumped and sat up in his bed just in time to see the door break clean off its hinges.

A tall silhouette stood in the doorway, swinging a large umbrella in one hand. Only one person at Hogwarts could be tall enough to cast such a shadow.

Hagrid.

Snape breathed a sigh of relief and slid out of his bed, grabbing his wand off the bedside table and lighting it. "Hagrid! You about scared me to death!"

The light of Snape's wand fell upon Hagrid's face. There was no recognition in his eyes. But he _was_ wearing a bright green furry bathrobe.

"Are you Severus Snape?" he asked.

"YES!" Snape grumbled. "It's me, you great dolt. What are you doing here?"

Hagrid shook Snape's hand heartily. "Nice to meet you, I'm The Ghost of Christmas Present!"

Oh. No. No. Nonononononononono!

"Sorry," said Snape, his hands shaking. "I erm… I don't feel like seeing anything else, tonight. I'm quite tired. But I appreciate you stopping by."

The Ghost of Christmas Present shrugged. "Fair enough, I guess." He turned to leave. Before Snape had time to believe his luck, The Ghost turned back. "Before I go, what do you think of my robe?" he asked.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "It makes me wish I was blind, to be honest."

"Ah, but you have to feel it," the Ghost of Christmas past insisted. "It's the softest material you can imagine."

"All… right." Snape didn't know how else to respond.

"Feel it," the Ghost insisted. "I'll leave you alone after, I promise."

Feeling quite foolish, Snape extended a single finger and pressed it against the sleeve of the Ghost of Christmas Past's robes.

There was suddenly a tug behind his navel, and much like a Portkey, Snape found himself stuck to the Ghost's sleeve as they were pulled away from Snape's room. It only took a few seconds for them to land with a painful thud.

"You said you'd leave me alone," Snape huffed. He took in his surroundings. A few glances told him that they were in the long term ward at Saint Mungo's Hospital.

"I lied," the Ghost chirped cheerfully. "Now take a look here." The ghost nodded to a curtain at the other end of the room. He pulled it open and Snape peered in.

Neville Longbottom and his grandmother sat on chairs beside a double bed. There propped up on pillows was Frank Longbottom and his wife, Alice Prewett. Snape paused, horrified how much she had changed and reminded himself that she was Alice Longbottom, now. Alice's hair was now limp and grey, her sweet round face now drawn and sallow. She coughed violently, blood bubbling over her lips.

"Oh Alice, dear," said Augusta, wiping the blood off with a handkerchief. "The Healer will be along with your medicine any minute now."

Neville looked at the floor.

"Why don't we all say what was best about our year?" suggested Augusta in a falsely bright voice. "I'm thankful for all the hard work Neville has been putting into his studies." Her voice was more stern than kind. She patted Neville's back.

"Now what about you, Neville?"

"I'm glad that Professor Snape has been willing to give me extra lessons," said Neville earnestly.

Augusta nodded. "Yes, you will have so many more job opportunities with a Potions N.E.W.T. under your belt."

Snape stared, his jaw practically hitting the floor. He had not been helping Longbottom at all, and he knew it. He had just been using it as an excuse to further torment the boy. And yet here Neville sat, grateful for it. Snape glanced at Alice. He had forgotten how kind Neville's mother had been when he was small. He watched her cough and his own body seemed to hurt.

He turned to the Ghost of Christmas Present. "Does she live?"

The Ghost turned to Frank and Alice and studied them briefly. "In a year's time, this double bed will be replaced for a single."

Snape hung his head.

The Ghost of Christmas Present put an arm around Snape and turned him around. Snape found himself in the midst of another party.

The room was crowded, filled with many teachers from Hogwarts and several students and their families.

Harry stood in the center of the room with his godfather and with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

"I will NEVER understand why you always invite Snape to this party," said Ron. "I mean, look at it. Everyone's always _happy_ here. He's miserable and treats everyone like day old dragon dung."

Harry scowled at Ron. "Because he tried to save my parents. I wouldn't be alive today if he hadn't told Voldemort not to kill my mother. And he was the one who brought Pettigrew forward and got Sirius released from Azkaban. If Snape hadn't've done that, I probably would have grown up with my magic-hating Muggle relatives. I owe him my life and my _kind_ and _loving_ upbringing."He smirked at Sirius.

Sirius grinned and ruffled Harry's hair. "Let's not get too sappy."

"No matter how cruel he is, I could never hate him. I will always invite him to these things, no matter how many times he sneers at the offer," Harry finished. He suddenly raised his goblet into the air, "Everyone! Let's take a moment to toast to a great man who could not be here tonight. A man who helped bring about Voldemort's death, who helped us capture several Death Eaters, who helped release an innocent man from prison! To Professor Snape!"

"Professor Snape!" everyone repeated enthusiastically.

Snape had no idea. All these years, he was sure Potter was like his father, inviting Snape to annoy him, hoping Snape would show up so he and his friends could taunt him. Snape felt something he hadn't let himself feel in years. He clutched at his chest as he watched the party-goers talk and laugh and play raucous games.

"It's time to go," The Ghost of Christmas Present said.

"No, I'm not ready!" Snape protested, but the Ghost dragged him away and through a doorway that led back to Snape's room.

The Ghost carefully put the door back on its hinges, blocking the party from view. He waved at Snape, spun the umbrella over his shoulder, and vanished.


	4. Chapter 4 Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come

**The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come**

Snape hurled himself forward at the door and ripped it open, hoping to be back at Potter's party. But no, nothing but dank empty corridor greeted him just as the bell clanged three times.

More disappointed than he would have liked to admit, Snape turned back to his room, ready for sleep.

He gasped and saw hooded Dementor, still and silent. Its rotten hands outstretched towards him. Snape reached for his wand, trying to recall happy memories to banish the thing.

But then he noticed the air was warm. He did not here the Dark Lord's voice in his head, announcing he was killing the whole Potter family.

It wasn't a Dementor at all, but the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

Snape took a deep breath and nodded. There was no use fighting it.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come glided out Snape's room and down the corridor towards Snape's office, Snape following close behind.

Snape opened the door to discover Horace Slughorn, though much older and fatter than Snape remembered him, raiding through Snape's belongings. Slughorn was smiling to himself as he placed item after valuable item into a bag.

"Ooh! Look at this. And this! Why this is very nice. Can't deny coming out of retirement wasn't a financially brilliant decision," Slughorn chortled to himself.

Snape glared, appalled. What was going on?

The Ghost swooped out of the office and led Snape out of the dungeons and into the Great Hall where a knot of students sat at one of the tables.

"Did you hear that Snape snuffed it during the middle of the night? Choked on a bit of midnight snack. Dumbledore hired old Slughorn first thing this morning."

"My dad had him," said another student. "Slughorn, I mean. He grades so easily, especially if you're one of his favorites. Passing Potions will be no problem, now. Not to mention, it'll be great to go through a full day without getting verbally abused."

"I know, I can't believe how lucky we are, especially with that exam we were due to have after break."

Snape frowned and backed away. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come made no move to follow him. Snape made his way to the staff room, surely one of his colleagues…

But not one teacher seemed sad or distressed. Professor Flitwick was even dozing lightly on one of the more comfortable chairs.

Although this troubled Snape, he couldn't manage to be more upset. He hadn't been close to any of them, but if the situation had been reversed… Well_, he_ would have been sorry to see any of_ them_ go. Snape let out a bitter sigh and made his way back to the Great Hall.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come was still there, but it was not alone. Standing beside it was another ghost, this one not solid, but pale and silver and semi-transparent.

Snape looked it in the eye, noting the hooked nose, the stringy shoulder-length hair. The narrowed angry eyes.

NO! NO!

It could not be him. No. He would never choose to become a ghost. Never. He lived throughout these years with one thought fueling him: that one day he would die and be reunited with Lily Evans.

Snape nearly tripped on his own feet in an effort to get away from the ghost version of himself. He looked at the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, staring imploringly into the black depths of its hood.

But it did not speak, did not explain. And suddenly, Snape understood. His actions, his cruelty and his anger, had bound him to the earth. His retribution for his sins was to be condemned to this world forever, never allowed to move on or seek peace.

Never to see Lily again.

"Is this What Must Be? Or can this be changed? If I change now, if I behave differently, can I stop this?" Snape shouted frantically. "Can I make things right?"

Snape charged at the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, shaking it until its hood fell off. Snape found himself looking into something very different than the dead eyeless face and sucking mouth he had expected.

"I cannot answer that, Severus," said Albus Dumbledore's voice gravely.

"But you must, you must know! What must I do?" Snape shook the front of Dumbledore's robes. Snape suddenly realized that the cloth he was gripping so tightly was not Dumbledore's robes. But the hangings on his own bed.


	5. Chapter 5: Christmas Day

**Christmas Day **

Snape slowly got out of bed, examining his room from all angles. His bed was not torn apart. The door was undamaged. The room held no sign of the three Ghosts' visits.

Had it all been just a dream? A dream that slowly turned into a nightmare? Just as Snape came to that conclusion, he noticed something on his bedside table.

A bright, silver flower with a faint glow.

The Ghost of Christmas Past. It must have fallen off her crown. Or possibly she left it to him. She had been the kindest and gentlest of the ghosts. She was the most determined that Snape change his ways. He slipped the flower into his pocket.

He sighed. So it had been real. And that must mean that the final scene the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come had shown him was a definite possibility.

Snape left his room and burst into the Great Hall. It was absolutely empty except for one, single student. A boy of around fourteen sat in the farthest corner of the room, stubbornly picking at breakfast.

"What day is it?" Snape asked the boy.

"The day? Why, it's Christmas day," the boy replied, repressing a scoff. He looked terrified at the sight of Snape.

"Oh wonderful, I'm not too late!" He pulled some money out of his pocket and tossed it to the boy. "Here, why do you have lunch in Hogsmeade on me?"

The boy looked as though Snape just pulled a giraffe out of his cloak. "Er, really?"

"Yes, yes," said Snape, hurriedly running towards the door. "Have wonderful Christmas," he called over his shoulder.

Snape rushed into the owlery and scribbled a note to Saint Mungo's with enough gold to ensure that Alice Longbottom got the best possible care. Once that business was taken care of, Snape went back to his room. He had to get ready. He had a party to attend tonight and had to assemble a gift.

That evening, Snape stood somewhat nervously at the front steps of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He could hear loud music and pleasant chatter inside.

The door swung open and Harry Potter stood there, gaping at his Potions Master. "Erm, hello, Professor Snape. You're here!" His voice held a certain note of disbelief.

"I do hope that invitation is still good?" Snape said humbly.

"Of course, of course," Harry ushered Snape inside away from the cold. "Look who's here, everyone!" Harry called. "It's Professor Snape."

His appearance was greeted halfheartedly. This did not bother him, though. At least they weren't sneering at him.

Snape reached into his cloak and pulled out a leather-bound book. He hesitated. He did not want to part with this. It was one of the most precious things he owned. But he knew in his heart that this was rightfully Harry's. Taking a deep breath, he held the book out. "Here, Potter. This is for you."

Harry took the book from him. "You didn't have-" His voice died away as he realized what he was looking at. Pictures of his mother as a child, pictures of her at the park, on the train to Hogwarts, pictures of her first trip to Hogsmeade… The last picture was taken at the Three Broomsticks. Snape had his arm around Lily's shoulder. A girl in the background was holding up a sign that said "Happy 16th Birthday, Lily!"

"I thought you would like these," Snape mumbled.

Harry smiled up at his teacher. He raised his glass and called for a toast. Snape closed his eyes and let himself smile as he heard Harry make the same speech Snape had heard with the Ghost of Christmas Present.

When the toast ended, Sirius and Remus came over to shake Snape's hand. McGonagall patted him on the back and asked how his day had been.

Hours later, Snape grew tired and decided to call it a night. He told everyone happy Christmas one last time. When he finally made his way to the door, he accidently knocked into someone.

"Oh, sorry," he said softly. Noticing who he knocked into, he felt his smile return. "Oh, happy Christmas, Miss Lovegood."

She beamed at him. "Happy Christmas, Severus. See, I can remember your name, why can't you get mine right?"

Snape opened his mouth to kindly tell her that even though they were off school property, he was still her teacher, but the girl stopped him as she held out her palm and said, "Could I have my flower back, please?"

Wordlessly, Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out the flower. It had wilted in his pocket and was now dull and brown. As soon as it landed in the girl's hand, it became bright and healthy again. She twisted it into her mass of tangled hair, smiling hugely all the while.

"I think you're going to be just fine, Severus."


	6. Chapter 6

**A Man Changed**

The next day when Neville showed up nearly twenty minutes late for rudimentary Potions, Snape pretended to be furious.

Neville cowered in his seat as Snape raged at him until finally, "What do you think you're doing wasting Boxing Day here in a drafty dungeon? Don't you have family to be with?"

Neville gaped at his Potions teacher, confused.

"And why are you ever here, anyway? What's so wrong with Exceeds Expectations? Do you really have to get an Outstanding? You know, I knew your parents and neither one of them was an obnoxious perfectionist!"

"Wait, what?"

Snape burst out laughing. He could not help himself.

Neville's eyes grew so wide they were in danger of popping out of his head.

"I was reviewing your grades last night, Neville. You've earned an Exceeds Expectations!"

"I have?"

"Yes! You've earned it. Now go on and enjoy the rest of your break. I'll see you in January."

Neville scrambled out of his seat, heartily shaking Snape's hand. "I will, Professor, I will. Thank you! Thank you very much!"

Snape smiled as he watched Neville depart in such high spirits.

From that moment on, Snape became a much better teacher. He stopped using fear as a weapon. He slowly learned to become more patient. His classes became a popular choice among the students. He made his classes engaging and entertaining, passing on his appreciation for the art of potion making to many students.

His monthly anonymous donations to Saint Mungo's Hospital insured that Frank and Alice lived more comfortable and healthier lives.

While he and Harry were never exactly close, Snape finally stopped seeing Harry as James Potter's son and accepted Harry as his own person. They were always kind to each other and Snape continued to make appearances at Harry's Christmas parties.

Years later, when Snape had reached a great old age, he passed away quietly in his sleep. He was greatly mourned, by other Hogwarts professors and students alike. His funeral was so crowded, that many had to stand because there wasn't enough room for that many chairs.

The number of mourners wasn't what was most important to Severus. He was touched that he had affected that many people. He had grown to love all of them in one way or another and was glad they had felt the same. But what he really wanted to know was if the good he did in the second part of his life outbalanced the bad.

It had.

Due to his reformation, his soul was allowed to leave the world and seek peace.

When he was finally reunited with Lily, she greeted her best friend with a smile.

**The End **


End file.
